


Ancom is dead

by wakethewinds



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Angst, Centricide - Freeform, Feels, M/M, Sad, jreg - Freeform, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakethewinds/pseuds/wakethewinds
Summary: Tankie meets up with Post-left for the first time since que left to try and tie up his lingering emotions.
Relationships: Tankie/Post-left
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	Ancom is dead

Tankie stared at the door of a small underground apartment, pacing back and fourth for several minutes. He was nervous. He brought his fist to the door several times, each time hesitating and pulling away until he built enough courage to knock. Tankie stood there for a long moment. He wasn't going to knock again, but he didn't want to leave.

The door opened. Tankie recognized the face, the scruffy hair, those tired eyes that were so familiar to him. Seeing his old friend again affected him more than he thought it would. A wave of joy and sadness, nostalgia and hurt, anger and love, flooded him. For a moment, all the multicolored emotions overwhelmed him. He couldn't say a word, just stared with wide-eyes.

"Go away." Que moved to close the door.

"Wait, Anarkiddy!" Tankie said, putting his arm in the door, "Please, I-"

"I'm not 'Anarkiddy'. I don't want to see you."

"I just want to talk, please...!" Tankie raised his eyebrows in a pained expression, "Only for a couple minutes."

Post-left sighed an irritated sigh. Almost against quis will, que couldn't help but empathize. "Fine. Make it quick." Que opened the door and let him in.

Tankie followed Post-left into the apartment. Post-left sat on a chair with quis legs curled up; Tankie sat stiffly on on an adjacent couch, twiddling his thumbs, slightly uncomfortable. "So..." He said, "How have you been?"

Post-left shrugged, "I've been alright. I've gotten back into poetry and started drawing again. I still do some things now and then, stuff like Food Not Bombs, y'know?"

"I didn't know that you drew."

"I haven't for years." Que replied, "With Centricide, I didn't have the time or energy for much of anything else."

"I see..." Tankie mumbled, looking down. He felt a bit guilty and remained quiet for a long moment. "Anarkiddy, I have to know... why did you leave? If you were just tired you could've taken a break, if you were stressed, or angry, or depressed then you could've asked for help. That's what I'm here for, you know? Mutual support. Whatever it was, I could've helped you."

Post-left shook quis head "That's selfish."

"Trying to help is selfish?"

"I didn't need help. I left on my own, it was my decision and it was the right one. Your help wouldn't have been for me, it would've been for yourself, because you wanted me to stick around."

Tankie clenched his fists. His voice rose, he grew angry. "Of course I want you to stay! I like you! Is that so wrong?"

Post-left sighed, "Tankie, I'm not yours to like. I have to live my own life. I have agency in my life. I need to grasp my freedom and I can't do that while all tied up with politics. I'm still an anarchist, but I'm more than that. I'm a person."

"So what about Centricide?! What about the left?!" Tankie rose to his feet, moving his hands in the energetic gestures that are common to him when he grows emotional. "You've given up on that too?!"

"Centricide." Post-left scoffed, smiling sardonically, "What a concept. Do you understand how absurd that is? I was working with a fucking Nazi, I was actively acting against my own beliefs, I was 'friends' with someone who wanted to kill me." Que scowled, a bit of spite in quis voice, "Centricide is a fucking stupid idea. It makes no sense. It's fucking nothing, it's a spook. I was had. You're still being had." Que glanced down and continued in a more level tone, "The left is much the same, what is the 'left' anyway? It's a strange, loose, contradictory label that tries to bring together people that have no reason to cooperate."

"...You're an idiot." Tankie glowered, putting on an expression of coldness that Post-left could see through as skin-deep. "Rejecting the left is counterrevolutionary. We fight for the people who can't fight for themselves. You're betraying the proletariat. You're a fucking kulak." He spat.

Post-left snorted. "Does this look like a kulak's house? The only part you can't see from here is the bedroom and trust me it's not much. That crack over there leaks. I don't even live here alone, I have a roommate, sometimes more people than just us two stay here. I sleep on the couch you're sitting on when there's not enough room for everyone on the bed. We lift half our fucking food, and not only because it's cool." Que spoke harshly, sternly, staring unflinchingly at Tankie's eyes as que did, "I gave up a life in a big house with my own room and a lifestyle funded by a fucking billionaire for a shitty basement. I gave up privilege, and I know the value of that. I didn't do it lightly. Do you understand now?" Quis dark eyes didn't waver, "Do you understand exactly how much this freedom is worth?"

Tankie understood. As much as quis words, he could see in quis face. Quis expressions, mannerisms, even quis tone when que spoke: Tankie couldn't recognize them. Even that little glimmer of passionate rage in Ancom's eye that Tankie was so familiar with, that he used to love, was gone; replaced by Post-left's gaze of cool, self-assured confidence. The mask of anger swiftly fell off his face and the tensity left his body. He knit his brow together and his bottom lip trembled slightly. "I see..." He spoke softly, "So you've lost all hope? You'll never come back?" Tankie paused a long moment before continuing, mumbling, "And us... There is no 'us', no left unity...?"

Post-left nodded. "There was never really any hope from the start, I always knew that. I just didn't want to realize it." Que smiled a small, cold, ironic smile. "Left unity is a myth, you know that too, Tankie." Que glanced at Tankie again. He had an expression of forlorn confusion and sorrow that que hadn't seen before. Post-left's gaze softened, que sighed and extended a hand. "Come here. I'm not cold enough to just sit here and watch you cry."

"I'm not going to cry." Tankie mumbled, his voice slightly hoarse with concealed emotion. He stepped forward and took Post-left's hand with a tender, almost reverent, touch, kneeling in front of quem to meet quis eye. Post-left could feel the faintest tremble in his hand. Que peered down at him, scrutinizing his expression. Que placed quis hand on Tankie's cheek.

"I see you now, where you are." Post-left spoke gently, "I don't envy you." Que moved quis hand along Tankie's jaw and to his hair, knocking his ushanka to the ground. "You're still so trapped in your own head." Que stroked his cheek. Tankie pressed his hand against Post-left's, closing his eyes, leaning into quis touch.

"Anarkitty..." Tankie's voice caught in his throat. Quis touch stirred the feelings he never put to rest. It stung, but he didn't want Post-left to move quis hand away. "...I've missed you so much." He sighed, furrowing his brow in a tragic expression, "I love you."

"I know you do." Post-left caressed his hair, "But I'm not Ancom anymore, Ancom died. I'm not the one you love"

Tankie gazed at quem with watery, grey eyes. "...I know." He mumbled, "But... you're right here." He squeezed Post-left's hand.

"But I'm not." Que slipped quis hand from Tankie's "I'm Post-left." Que stood, stretching quis arms, "You should work on mourning your friend. It's probably hard without a corpse, but Ancom is still just as dead." Post-left leaned forward, Kissing Tankie on the forehead. "Stand up, Tankie. Go home."

Tankie wiped his eyes and put his hat back on. He took a breath to gather himself back together and stood. "Yeah... Sorry for intruding" He did his best to to sound like he normally did, embarrassed by his emotion. "Thanks for talking."

'"It's whatever." Post-left walked him to the door. "Don't come back here again. Goodbye Tankie." Que closed the door, and again Tankie lingered for a moment on the porch before turning away.

~~~~

A rose, a candle, and a little stone with a circle-A drawn on it lay in the corner of the room.

"Where the have you been all afternoon? What the hell is this pile of garbage?" Nazi nagged, neurotic and demanding as usual.

Tankie sat on the couch, head in his hands, somber and mournful. "It's a grave." He sighed, "I realized Ancom is dead."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u reddit haha 69


End file.
